


Night Time, Sympathize

by snowin_you



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Difference, Daddy Kink, Episode Related, Episode: s10e20 Angel Heart, F/M, Face Slapping, Hurt/Comfort, Infidelity, Mark of Cain, Mark of Cain Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Off-screen Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rough Sex, Size Difference, Spanking, Vaginal Sex, because how can I not?, references to established Dean/Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 07:51:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3888277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snowin_you/pseuds/snowin_you
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alternate scenes for Angel Heart. Dean needs a distraction or he is going to lose his mind. (Spoiler alert: he already has.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Time, Sympathize

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bloodandcream](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloodandcream/gifts).



> Personally I think Dean did a good job of keeping the Mark in check at this point in the story, but I need porn so screw it. Also, let’s pretend the grigory can wait ‘til morning.
> 
> Title from Night Time by The xx
> 
> Beta-read by my comrade-in-porn [lysanatt](http://archiveofourown.org/users/lysanatt/pseuds/lysanatt). All remaining mistakes and bad porn are mine. I blame [bloodandcream](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3848161) and Robbie Thompson for the rest.

Cas is gone, and so is Dean's stupid brother. What kind of an idiot – idiots, plural – thinks it's a good idea to leave him with an 18-year-old girl.  _Freshly_  18 years old girl – a fact the Mark has been feeding him since he first heard Cas said it was her birthday. It was Dean's idea to have Cas buy her a present. He didn't even know why he suggested that. As they strolled through aisles of plush toys and miniature figures, all Dean could think of was clamps and vibrators and a hundred other toys he could use on her and it'd still be legal.

Dean slams the door shut behind him, the bang louder than necessary but he needs it, the exaggeration. Claire doesn't even flinch. She still sits at the end of the bed where he left her not nearly five minutes ago, as if she wasn't sure if he would be back, how soon or at all. Dean tosses the six-pack on the table and walks inside to throw his duffel on the cupboard by the wall, his back to Claire. He starts stripping, peeling off his suit jacket, then loosens his tie. Claire's gaze burns at the nape of his neck where his skin is bare, but fuck if he cares.

It's hot as hell in here, in his 'Clapton and Page' suit. The 'bring your daughter to work day' line he used hit too close to home. Home he'll never have. Sheriff Coltrane – Dean wonders if that's an alias too – didn't bat an eye and Dean  _saw_  the moment she concluded Claire was their – Dean's and Cas' – daughter. The Mark shot electricity up his arm and down his spine. Desire. Wish. Want. It hurts tenfold when it's something he'll never have.

Dean is down to his boxer briefs. It's the Mark that has him bend over, his perky ass up in the air, before pulling up his jeans. The Mark knows what he has. Dean knows what he has. It's what gets men and women trailing after him. Hell, it's the reason Cas' thrusts are brutal when he fucks Dean from behind.

At Claire's little gasp, the Mark purrs in delight.

Dean smirks to himself, pulling on his t-shirt and flannel, putting his little show to an end. He goes to his beer, never once turning Claire's way until he has the bottle to his lips, settling down on a chair the other side of the table.

"Can I have one?" Claire says from where she sits. Dean can tell by the way her fingers toy with the hem of her shirt, by the tiny twitch on her face, she is antsy.

He could drag this out a little.

"Like you never had a beer before you were twenty-one," she says, rolling her eyes. And then she does what she hasn't done since Cas and Sam left the room, she gets up. Eyes never leaving Dean – or the beer bottle on his lips, Dean doesn't know which – she gets rid of her flannel, leaving her dressed only in an oversized tank top.

What is it with the Novaks and oversized clothes? Dean downs his beer in frustration. Suddenly it isn't cooling enough.

Claire moves, each deliberate step closer sends a thrill through the Mark. Anticipation. It doesn't pain when it's something he can have. The Mark can have.

"All right. You know what?" Dean blurts before he can't stop himself, before the Mark takes control. And it hurts when the Mark doesn't get what it wants. "If we stay cooped up in this motel room all night long, I'm gonna lose my mind."

Claire takes the bottle from his hand, taking a swig. Dean watches as it goes down her stretched neck. Since when has she come this close? "Spoiler alert," she says. And damn he can already smell the foamy beverage on her breath. His favorite brand, no less. "You already have."

Dean forces a dry laugh, because she's right. He has lost his damn mind. All he can see now is Claire writhing on the table, impaled on his cock. The six-pack splatters on the floor by the force of their fucking.

Ready to bolt, Dean grabs his jacket, but Claire is on him before he can get up, straddling his lap, forcing him back on his seat. "I'm sure we can find things to do to pass the time?" Claire asks, almost innocently, as if she isn't placing her arms over his shoulders, her hands playing with the back of his head.

He never thought that Claire has Cas' eyes – not as blue, not as bright – but this close, Dean can tell their resemblances, their differences, and he yearns. He longs. He desires. The Mark responds with quivers of excitement. Itches that need to be scratched.

"Come on, I'm sure you'll give me a better present than Castiel did, right?" she continues on when he doesn't respond. How can he? His hard cock throbs in his jeans. A slight movement will either break his zipper or let her know how on board he is with what she is implying, despite his better judgment. "A doll? Really? I'm not a child." Claire rolls her eyes, and Dean's sneer – no one criticizes Cas' choice, no one – is lost when she removes her tank top. Jesus, she really isn't a child. The creamy mounds above her white bras get Dean licking his lips. The Mark buzzes hungrily through his veins. "And I'm certainly not a virgin."

To prove her point, she grips his hard-on, her grasp firm despite her small hand. Dean groans, desperate, helpless, when the Mark takes over. His hand grabs the back of her head, mauling her into a kiss. The other grabs between the front of her thighs, those fucking thighs in thin leggings that leave nothing, nothing to the imagination, and damn if Dean doesn't want to spread those legs apart and slam his hips between them. Right now, though, he clasps her crotch in his hand, and God it's already hot and damp on his fingers. Hotter and damper as he fondles it, eliciting needy whimpers from her lips.

Dean shoves her on her feet, out of the chair, and she is already shaking. Her knees would have given out if Dean hadn't been hauling her across the hall, throwing her ample body on the bed when they reach it. She squeals in delight, reaching behind to unclasp her bra as she scoots over to the headboard. Dean tosses his flannel and t-shirt away, crawling on all fours half-naked onto the bed where she sits waiting, legs apart. Dean aims for her naked bosom. This is no time for love-making. The Mark has a need to be fulfilled and it commands. He cups at one of her breasts, soft against his calloused hand, and closes his lips on the other.

"Yes," Claire moans, fingers digging at the back of his head, letting him know she wants him there. Dean laps at her nipple, creamy pink and sweet. God, how long has it been since he last tasted such a young bud? His mouth waters as he hungrily savors the enticing treats, left and right and right and left. Claire writhes and moans prettily below him, the curve of her back arching higher the quicker he flicks his tongue. Dean slides his palm down her spine, pressing her groin right on his toned abdomen.

She gets on, throwing one leg over his hips, shamelessly rubbing herself on him. The fabric of her legging pants is so thin Dean can feel her savory wetness seep through it as he grinds back against her. One of the very few new inventions Dean doesn't kick up a fuss about. The Mark is impatient, though. It supplies Dean with an image of him tearing the crotch with his hands, pounding into her while she has her pants on. An imagery so tempting he has to pause, putting a halt to it before it gets out of hand.

Claire whines with the sudden stop. Looking up, Dean finds her a perfect picture of debauchery. Her blond locks sprawl around, the bun behind her head undoubtedly a mess. Her breath is ragged, her nipples puffy and shiny with saliva, her chest heaving where her torso hunches against the headboard. Dean clutches her ankles and yanks her down until she is flat on the bed, making her yelp. Removing her tights isn't so easy, though. It takes four hands and a lot of wiggles to get that damn thing out of the way.

Now lying there in her white panties, looking innocently seductive, she ignites in him desires he has long denied himself. Dean settles between her legs, pushing them up over his shoulders and nuzzles her groin. God, he has missed this, missed the thrill of breaking a woman down, piece by awesome piece. With Cas it's always caution and familiarity. Not that he doesn't like those, no. But sometimes he wishes Cas would just stop coddling him and wreck him until he forgets who he is, who he has become.

Claire shudders when he playfully nibbles over her panties. Licking broad swipes over it until he finds her clit, Dean then repeatedly presses his tongue there. Claire grunts and grunts, the thin fabric drenched inside and out, until finally she bursts, "Stop teasing!"

Probably the first time Dean snickers over an 18-year-old's private part, but he complies and quickly they remove the soiled underwear from between her legs. Once they settle back in the same pose, sans panties, Claire sighs in relief.

"Not too soon, girl," Dean breathes over her crotch.

"If you'd just get on with it, old man," Claire retorts with a roll of her eyes.

And that's it. Dean's done. She is going to show him some respect. With that in mind, Dean delves between her legs, his tongue flicks mercilessly over her clit without preamble. Claire thrashes and moans, so loud Dean is sure it is heard three doors down. But he doesn't have a free hand to cover her mouth. One is busy holding her hips in place, the other busy fucking in and out of her hole, two fingers deep. The harder he gets a reaction out of her, the more pleasure the Mark ripples through him. And the more pleasure, the harder he bangs. It goes on until he feels a small hand at the back of his head, gripping tight enough to hurt, except that it doesn't. Claire goes rigid on him, toes curling where the heels dig into his shoulder blades. Her cunt squeezes on his fingers in the way that let him know she came.

Dean eases her down on the bed, greedily licks his fingers clean while she watches, boneless. He slides off the bed to remove his jeans. Closing his eyes, Dean exhales in relief when finally his hard cock is free of confinement. When he opens his eyes again, Claire is already there, sitting on her haunches on the bed, salivating at his newly exposed organ.

"May I?" she says shakily, and Dean would have laughed if it doesn't remind him ridiculously so much of someone else who used to ask for permission to suck his cock.

"Please, Dad?"

The Mark discharges a tremor down his spine. It knows Cas loves her as his own, and Dean knows, even though he doesn't admit, that Cas' child is his child. And the Mark is psyched at the prospect of him fucking his child senseless.

No, Dean reminds himself. Claire is not related, as much as Cas wants them to be. He told Cas so himself. This is just two consenting adults having a good time.

Now the Mark gives him another kind of chill. It's cold and dark and it's the kind that Dean hates and dreads. No matter how he fools himself, this is going to hurt Cas when he finds out what is going down.

"Be my guest," Dean finds himself saying instead. All his conscience leaves him the moment Claire has her hands on him. She fists along his length, fondles his balls and makes tentative licks at the head. Dean never minds such an unskilled tactic, but the Mark keeps pushing him, urging him to drill his cock into her skull.

Dean runs his thumb on her cheek. Claire is looking up sweetly at him now. "Good girl," he silently commends as she wraps her thin lips over his shaft. Her little suckling reminds him of another pair of lips: thicker, firmer in his wet grip; so contrasting that it's almost fictitious that Claire and Cas is biologically related. "Good girl," he says again, this time more clearly. Claire responds in moaning, effectively pulling Dean back to the matter at hand.

There is no expert trick; just plain determination as she flattens her tongue, each bob of her head takes him deeper down her throat. Dean grunts as he feels her tight channel gradually opens up for him. "Come on, Dad. That's all you've got?" she dares, her little fingers jerking his cock with vigor. "Don't you want to fuck my pretty face?"

If the Mark could jump right out of his skin, at that moment it would have. The gush of lust that courses through his muscles is violent enough to send his hips staggering. He wants to plunge her every hole, on every surface, up in the air. It's obvious she has not been with many people, and the Mark is raring to ruin her naivety.

"I'd rather fuck your slutty cunt," Dean hisses through gritted teeth. It's not something he'd normally say, but when he gets a lustful gleam in her eyes in return, he blows his guilt away, fast.

Claire moves up on the bed, opening her legs in a blatant invitation. "What are you waiting for then?" she taunts, and Dean swears he could have slapped the potty mouth out of her with his hard cock (and she would have loved it). Instead he grabs her ankle, manhandles her until she has both feet on the floor, hands on the bed. Now  _that_  is the ass he has been eyeing all day, has been seeing images of himself drilling his cock into. Now it's coming true.

He nudges her legs further apart, dipping his hand between her crotch. God, she is so wet and hot. "Look at you," he says, or the Mark says, it doesn't matter now. "So ready for me. Can't wait to have Daddy's cock inside you, huh? Tearing you apart."

Claire whimpers and fucks back onto his fingers. The girl has the fight in her even as her legs are practically shaking, and the Mark loves it. He has four in her pussy at the moment, and only has half a mind to tear the tiny foil package with his teeth and roll the condom on with his free hand. When that is done, he removes the hand inside her. Her juice drips to his wrist. Fucking teenager. Fucking. Teenager.

He coats the rubber with her slick. One hand at her hip, the other lining himself up, he slowly sinks into his heavenly bliss. "Jesus," he groans, watching his dick disappears into her cunt. He bends over her back when he bottoms out, bracing his arm around her waist for support. "So fucking tight. You're sure you're not a virgin, huh, Claire Novak?" he teases next to her ear, voice husky and lewd.

Claire bites her lips. Her midsection flutters where he rests inside her. "Fucking move," she hisses instead. Dean smirks, aware of what she doesn't let in on. He straightens up. The height difference means he has to bend his knees. Or, gripping her hips with both hands, he lifts her up until she is on her tiptoes, then he starts fucking into her.

Deans sets a brutal pace. Having the Mark on his arm means he's got supernatural strength and lasting stamina. "Yes, yes, yes," Claire shrills. With her legs nearly in the air, she has no leverage but to take what she is given, and he is giving her good. Her ass bounces with each slap of his hips. It fascinates him so much he pulls her onto him that much harder, faster, just to see the vibration.

"F- fuck!" Her voice is hoarse now when she cusses and comes. The mounds of her ass squeeze Dean so tight he would have shot his load too if it hadn't been for the Mark. He stills inside her while she grasps for breath, easing her knees on the edge of the bed so she has some kind of footing. She drops to her head and shoulders out of exhaustion.

"Don't think we're done for today, baby girl," Dean says behind her ears. He is still hard as rock. The Mark is insatiable. One brutal fuck can't quench its thirst in the slightest.

Claire laughs. An actual fucking laugh. She pushes herself up on her hands; his cock buries deep in her cunt where she is on her knees. Looking back over her shoulder, she leers, "Come on, Daddy. Wreck me."

Dean can't hammer into her fast enough, her core splitting cruelly on his thick cock. Once she gets off, it doesn't take long for her to come again. "Fuck!" Now it's Dean's turn to curse when her hole clutches him in a death grip, throbbing until he can hardly breathe.

The little Novak doesn't pause this time. When she's done coming, she fucks herself back onto him. Dean lets her do the work. His now free hands swat down on her ass cheeks, leaving behind reddened marks. Claire only moans and thrusts back harder.

"Look at you." Swat. "Can't get enough of Daddy's cock, can you?" Swat. Claire moans out a negative and shakes her head, too incoherent to form full sentences. "Already came three times and still hungry for more."

"Daddy, please," she cries brokenly. She can't get decent friction on her own, not after he set such a superhuman pace.

"Please what, baby?" Dean tantalizes. "You need to come on my cock?"

Claire nods furiously.

Another smack on her ass. "Say it."

"Daddy, please," she pleads while trying to fuck helplessly onto Dean. "I need– I need to come on your cock."

"Good girl," Dean coos. Bending over to grapple one of her swinging breasts, he starts a delicious rhythm. "How many times more?" Claire seems too dazed with the double pleasure to reply so Dean has to stop and ask again, "How many times more?"

"Two," she cloaks at the sudden cut-off.

' _Four_ ,' the Mark whispers to him. 

"You think you can take four, baby?" Dean asks as he begins again, kneading her small breast in his big hand and dicking her cunt. "It's four or nothing."

"Okay"

Dean stills. "Okay what?"

"Okay, Dad!" Claire almost shouts. "Oh my god, just fuck me already!"

The Mark roars in his ears. His hips ram into her faster than he remembers ever ramming into anyone. "Is that a way to talk to your dad, huh? You ungrateful bitch!"

What apology Dean expects from her dies away when she comes again, her ass burning where it is red with his handprints. Dean lets his dick enjoy the clench of her wet channel, then pushes her off. He manhandles her until she is on her back, one leg over his shoulder even though he is still standing by the edge of the bed, then shoves her back onto his cock.

"Argh!" she cries. With legs spread obscenely wide, their new position allows him to dick in deep. He is glad to know she is as flexible as her dad's – Cas' – vessel.

"God, you take it as good as your dad does," the Mark speaks for him now, and Dean can't stop. Or won't. Or doesn't want to stop. He doesn't know. The pace is maddening. His mind is maddening. "Like father, like daughter, eh?"

Of course she isn't as tight, or as strong. In fact, she is so small Dean is afraid he might break her in half.

The Mark wants to break her in half.

Claire moans like a porn star at the mention of Jimmy, and she comes again before Dean can even increase his pace.

The Mark relishes in the throbs of her walls.

Two down. Two to go.

Dean backs away from the bed so she could put her leg down, as gently as the Mark allows. His erection stands proudly when he moves to lie on his back on the bed, Claire as limp as a rag doll when he pulls her body on top of him.

Cas' weight would crush him in this position, but Claire is so small. Her tiny breasts squash on top of his stomach when he lines their hips together. He runs his fingers through her long blond hair, soaked now in sweat, brushing some of it off her mascara-smeared face. "You're not backing out now, are you?" he asks and she replies with a weak shake of her head. "Can you take more of daddy's cock?" A weak nod and Dean is pushing in. It doesn't take much effort with how slick and ruined she is.

"Oh God," she groans when Dean settles, her inside trembles with overstimulation. The Mark pulsates just as fervently over his forearm.

Dean plants his feet on the bed, bouncing her on his cock, twice, testing waters. "Fuck yourself on me, baby," he orders. Dean doesn't need her to, not really, but that would be too easy. "Don't let Daddy do all the work."

Claire pushes herself up on her arms and Dean smirks. Endless energy of a young girl is probably what can satisfy the Mark. Probably. Claire starts moving, dragging herself up and dropping herself down, eyes close in concentration and pure bliss.

"That's my good girl," Dean croons as he starts meeting her thrust by thrust. The sound of flesh on flesh echoes around the cheap motel room, outdone only by the moans falling from Claire's lips.

Cas is just as loud.

"Dea—"

Dean – the Mark – slaps her face before she can even finish pronouncing his name. It's too close. It reminds him too much of someone – someone  _else_  Dean wants to be with, if everything wasn't so fucked up. So fucked up Dean doesn't get what he wants anymore. He doesn't get what he wants.

The Mark increases his pace, and before Claire can come up with another pronoun for him, she comes again, hard, wheezing as if she doesn't get enough air into her lungs. The Mark is overjoyed at its triumph, at the feel of her young cunt squeezing his cock, at the girl herself struggling to even out her breathing. Dean lets Claire fall onto him, passed out, senseless.

~:~:~

Claire doesn't know how long she blacked out, but when she comes to, she is still lying on top of Dean's toned chest, his hard dick inside her, stretching, scorching.

She vaguely remembers that it isn't over yet. Sex isn't supposed to last this long.

"Are you going to come at all?" she asks blearily, pushing up on her arms.

Dean grins, and it's radiant, almost blinding. It's the other side of him she never saw, never even knew he was capable of – being vivacious.

"You ready for the last round?" he charms.

She nods. She wants to get it over with. She doesn't want it to stop. When she seduced Dean to bed, she just thought of getting back at them - at Castiel for killing Jimmy and Dean for killing Randy. Now she wonders if the only person she manages to shatter is herself.

She has a crush on Dean.

Now, don't get her wrong. She is not that naïve. This is no love-making. It's pure lust and smut and maybe something more primordial, and it's as far from tender and loving as can be. But Dean's touches are comforting when he isn't punishing. His thrusts are gratifying.

She knows he can see through her façade, yet he doesn't call her out on it.

Claire whimpers when Dean pulls her off his dick. He lays her on the bed and Claire has to cover her eyes with one arm lest she cries. It's too gentle, and it gets her all emotional. She is a fucking teenager. Of course she is allowed to be emotional.

"Hey, you're not backing out now, are you?" Dean asks this question, again, removing her arm, and this time she is met with the kindest eyes. She wonders if this is how Dean looks at Castiel, how he makes love to him.

"Daddy," she says, shakily, unsure if they're still roleplaying. "Will you come with me?"

She knows she won't last long, her body hard-wired to respond to Dean's. But what little time she has, she will cherish.

~:~:~

When he came that night it was with the most powerful orgasm he's ever had. No girl should have her first experiences of 'multiple orgasms' and 'orgasm denial' all in one night, but the Mark needed to be satiated and it cynically made good on its promise, deferring her last climax of the night until it was ready to explode.

Dean slept untroubled, the Mark sated, until he got a call from Sam in the morning saying they had found Amelia. Claire never talked about it, what transpired the night before, much to his surprise. He was pretty sure she wanted to get back at them when she first climbed onto his lap.

"Listen," Claire begins, but she ducks her head, avoiding his gaze. "What I did… I'm sorry… I shouldn't…"

"Forget it," Dean cuts in. He is as much to blame. "It's in the past."

"Are you gonna be okay?" she asks, and Dean knows she means the Mark.

"I don't know," he answers honestly. He will keep fighting, but he doesn't always win, and she is a living proof of it.

Claire gives a small nod. If anyone can sympathize with Dean, it's her. She catches sight of Castiel, talking to Sam some distances away, and she wants to ask Dean to take care of him, not to hurt him again, like he did the night before.

"Will you keep an eye on him?" she says instead, neutrally. "He's been through enough."

Dean doesn't assent, doesn't even acknowledge her request. "So have you," he replies firmly.

And that moment Claire wants so bad to be in Dean's embrace, in his consolation and cocoon. To ask if she can call him Daddy, not in the throes of their stupid, kinky shit, but in broad daylight. If he would be her guide, her backer, her friend. But that cab approaches and the moment disperses a minute too soon.

Dean is gone and Castiel is there and guilt comes crashing on her because she might have ruined the most precious thing to him while he was out there, risking his life looking for her mom. Then he awkwardly tells her she can call him anytime and she can't hug him fast enough or hard enough, crying internally, 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have hurt you, and if I could take it back, take everything back, I would. You might not be my real father, but I love you as one, and I'm sorry.'

When she lets go, Claire rushes into the car, never looking back, afraid she might never be able to leave. She has made up her mind, and they've respected it.

"Going home or leaving home?" the cab driver tries to make small talk.

"Just… going," she says, and somehow it is alleviating. Today she has lost both of her parents, but deeply she knows she has gained two more.

'Goodbyes aren't always forever' is a comfort in the back of her mind.


End file.
